


The Housewife

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [75]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Begging, Bottom Derek Hale, Butt Plugs, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dresses, Established Relationship, Feminization, Fluff and Smut, Human Derek Hale, Lingerie, M/M, Makeup, Making Love, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys, Sexual Roleplay, Top Stiles Stilinski, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25673323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: Derek roleplays as Stiles' dutiful housewife.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [75]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/887604
Comments: 42
Kudos: 360
Collections: Teen Wolf ▶ Derek Hale / Stiles Stilinski





	The Housewife

Stiles arrives home to the apartment he and Derek share after a long week spent on the other side of the country for business. He thanks his lucky stars that he managed to secure the deal his boss wanted the previous day, otherwise he would've had to be away from home even longer. He dumps his bag in the hallway, undoes another two buttons at the top of his dress shirt—what was he thinking flying in his suit?—and proceeds further inside the apartment, more than ready to reunite with Derek, the love of his life. They've been married for almost five years now, and still Stiles misses him dearly if they're apart for more than a few hours.

Every time. It's a bit pathetic, really—at least according to his best friend Scott.

Well, screw Scott. Stiles is happy, damnit, and he's going to damn well enjoy his sappy love life to his heart's content.

"I'm home!" he announces as he peeks his head into the living room. Empty. Kitchen or bedroom, then.

Sure enough, Stiles hears Derek respond to him from the former:

"In here!"

Making his way through the living room and into the kitchen, Stiles sniffs the air and notices for the first time the scent of something sweet and buttery. "What smells so—"

The question goes unfinished, because that's the moment Stiles steps through the threshold between rooms and gets an eyeful of something unexpected but wonderful.

"Oh…" he breathes, already in awe.

"Hey, sweetheart," Derek greets him, turning away from the oven. He approaches, the sway of his hips exaggerated.

All Stiles can do is stand there, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide as he waits for his brain to catch up. He attempts to speak again but still can't seem to finish a full sentence. "You're— You're wearing—"

Derek's lips curl up into a brief amused smile before his countenance changes into feigned concern. "What's wrong, honey?" he asks, touching the back of his hand to Stiles' forehead to really play it up. "You don't have a temperature, so you can't be sick. Are you tired? Is that it? Well, I know just how to take care of you, so come on…"

The older man leads Stiles over to the square table that's positioned against one wall. There are two chairs on opposite sides for when they eat breakfast together, and it's into one of these that Derek pushes him before crouching down and beginning to unlace Stiles' shoes. Stiles lets him, too busy staring at the top of Derek's head. He finally manages to snap his mouth shut as he gets closer to regaining his mental faculties, but he still can't quite believe what he's seeing. It's something they've talked about before, but Stiles never thought Derek would actually go through with it.

Evidently, he was wrong.

It started with Stiles calling Derek pretty one evening a few months ago, while they sat together watching TV with a cool beer each. He didn't think anything of it at first, just chuckled after noticing how Derek's cheeks pinked up. But then it kept happening, and a suspicion formed in Stiles' head, one he was too much of a cheeky shithead not to follow until he ran it into the ground. He called Derek pretty and beautiful any chance he got, started treating Derek with gentle hands and placing chaste kisses to his temples and bristly cheeks. Every time—every damn time—the blush appeared.

Of course, the next step was to bring it into the bedroom. The first time he called Derek his wife while he was balls-deep inside of him, Derek came untouched.

In the aftermath, Derek hid his face in Stiles' chest and refused to come out and talk about it properly for nearly half an hour.

All of that led to a short discussion in which Derek revealed that he had a bit of a kink for feminisation. Stiles obviously had no problem indulging him, even going so far as to suggest—half joking, half tentatively serious—that Derek go all out, really act the part of his little housewife sometime. Derek only hummed noncommittally, so Stiles left it there, tamping down his disappointment because, if Derek wasn't ready for that or didn't want to go quite that far, he would never dream of pressuring him.

Apparently, Stiles needn't have worried. Turns out Derek just needed a bit of time because…

Damn.

When Derek finishes taking off Stiles' shoes, he rises to his full height and smooths his palms down the front of the frilly white apron that's tied around his waist. It looks like something straight out of the 50s, complementing the dress underneath it. The fabric of said dress features a nice white-and-green chequerboard pattern that brings out Derek's eyes, and the bright colours are contrasted by black buttons down the front. It's fitted so well up top that it must have been specifically constructed with a man in mind, just barely struggling to contain Derek's shoulders and pecs, and it flares out at the waist with the aid of a white petticoat.

A black belt is fastened tight enough to make Derek's already trim waist seem even smaller. His legs are covered by thin white stockings that have Stiles imagining what else is hidden beneath the skirt, and completing the whole thing is a light touch of makeup—just some sheer lipgloss and a bit of mascara, by the looks of things.

"Aren't you just the prettiest thing I've ever seen?" Stiles croons, finally ready to participate in this little roleplay fantasy.

"Thank you," Derek responds, ducking his head bashfully. He gives a little curtsey.

Cute.

"So…what's that I smell?"

Derek glances over his shoulder at the oven. "I thought you deserved a treat after working so hard, so I made your favourite."

Stiles reaches for Derek's hands and swings their arms back and forth in the air. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm. Blueberry pie. I've got vanilla ice cream in the freezer too."

Stiles smiles softly up at his husband and hums, pleased. "You're always so good to me, babydoll."

"I try."

"How long until it'll be ready?"

Derek's pupils dilate, easily catching onto the reason Stiles asked. He glances at the clock above the stove. "It's got another thirty minutes or so."

Stiles grins devilishly. "Excellent."

"But I've gotta take it out after that or it'll burn."

"Shame. I wanna take my time with you," Stiles says with a pout.

"You still can." Derek repositions himself so he's standing behind Stiles' chair and brings his hands to the younger man's shoulders. "I've still got dinner to cook first, then while the pie cools…" Derek trails off right as he starts to rub Stiles' shoulders, working out the tension that gathered there during his trip.

Stiles tips his head forward with a quiet moan, his eyes slipping shut. "Sounds like a plan to me."

For another couple minutes, Derek massages Stiles' shoulders and back, and then he walks away, over to the fridge. "So how'd the trip go?"

 _Dirty tease,_ Stiles thinks, opening his eyes again to watch his husband—no, his _wife_. Fuck. "It was pretty good."

He apprises Derek of the deal his boss wanted and how difficult it was to attain. Derek makes noises of sympathy in all the right places while he cooks some burgers in a large saucepan. Stiles makes a mental note to look into getting a grill sometime.

"Anything I can do to help?" he enquires, just because it's the right thing to say. He'd much rather stay right where he is, enjoying the view.

"Nah, you just stay there," Derek replies. He retrieves a beer from the fridge and hands it to Stiles before getting out a bag of pre-cut bread rolls and cutting thin slices of onion, lettuce and tomato.

"Will do." Stiles takes a sip of his beer. It sits cool in his stomach.

The time passes quickly. Before Stiles knows it, he has a plate of two beef cheeseburgers in front of him to go with his beer, and Derek comes over with his own plate. He sweeps his hands down the back of his dress to make sure he doesn't wrinkle the fabric as he sits down across from Stiles. They eat mostly in companionable silence, only sharing short sentences in between bites. Otherwise, each of them is content just to look at each other, Derek with a constant faint blush and Stiles with a smirk, knowing exactly what will come to pass once their bellies are full and the pie is fully baked.

It can't come soon enough.

When the timer Derek set goes off, Stiles is just polishing off his second burger. He washes the final bite down with the last of his beer while Derek gets dessert out of the oven, and then it's time.

As soon as Derek has set the pie down on the counter to cool, the blueberry filling bubbling enticingly through the pastry lattice on top, Stiles presses up behind him and rests his hands on Derek's hips. He slides his lips up the side of Derek's neck until he reaches his ear and nibbles lightly on the lobe. " _Now_ I get to take my time with you, don't I?" Stiles murmurs, relishing the way his breath causes Derek to shudder against him. "Can't believe how lucky I am to have you. Dressed up so pretty for me tonight, didn't you, honey? My pretty little wife…"

Another shudder. Coupled with the way Derek's breathing is slightly laboured already, it's more proof of how much feminisation does it for him.

How can Stiles not oblige?

Moving his hands up and around to Derek's chest, he fits them around the swell of both pecs and squeezes. "Love your tits, babydoll."

Derek sucks in a sharp breath and thrusts his chest out eagerly. "Stiles…"

Stiles gives Derek's nipples a pinch through his dress before running his hands down over his stomach. He wraps one arm tight around Derek's waist, pulling him back so he'll be able to feel how hard Stiles is for him even through all the layers of fabric, while the other hand comes to a stop over Derek's crotch.

"You getting wet for me already, huh?" he praises, palming Derek's trapped erection.

"Uh-huh," Derek says shakily. His knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the countertop hard.

"Let's get you outta this pretty dress so I can take care'a ya, hmm?"

Stiles undoes Derek's apron and unbuckles his belt, letting both fall to the floor, before undoing each of the buttons on the front of his lover's dress one by one. He has to move back slightly to slip the garment off over Derek's shoulders, and then it and the petticoat flutter to the floor to join the belt. Taking another step back to get a better view, all of Stiles' hopes for what Derek was hiding beneath his dress are fulfilled and then some.

"You just keep surprising me," he says, skating a finger down from the back of Derek's neck to the drip of his spine.

Derek peers back at him and worries at his bottom lip, smearing lipgloss on his teeth. "'S'it a good surprise?"

"Oh yeah, babydoll. So good." Stiles' finger comes to a stop when he gets to the strap that runs horizontally beneath Derek's shoulder blades. A bra, made of pastel pink lace. "Turn around for me."

Complying, Derek lifts an arm to run his fingers nervously through his hair, his cheeks once again flushed red. "You really like it?"

Stiles makes sure not to hide just how much he does while he runs his eyes up and down Derek's body. The bra is another item that must have been made for a man, or at least a woman with a flatter chest. It cups his pecs beautifully, his dusky nipples peeking through the lace, already hard and pebbled.

Derek's chest hair is still present, for which Stiles is glad. He wouldn't have minded if Derek fully committed and shaved or waxed it all off, but the sight of such a delicate bra against a full chest of dark hair hits every button in Stiles' poor bisexual brain. It's not helped at all when he looks further down, following the trail of fine hair running between Derek's abs, and sees that his pubes remain too, the coarse hairs easily visible underneath the lace of his matching panties.

The tip of Derek's cock peeks out above the waistband, the foreskin peeled back to reveal a drop of pre-come forming at the slit.

"Never seen anything so damn sexy, honey," Stiles compliments, meaning every word. He proffers a hand. "C'mon, let's get somewhere more comfortable."

He leads Derek back through the living room, into the hallway and through the opposite door. Their king-size bed is the only thing he cares about at the moment, so he ignores everything else as he spins them both around so Derek's back is to the bed and pushes him backward. The older man hits the mattress with a soft _whump_ , his arms thrown above his head and his legs parted invitingly.

Stiles makes quick work of taking off the rest of his suit, finally freeing his aching cock, before insinuating himself between Derek's muscular thighs. He plants his hands on either side of Derek's head and leans down to kiss him passionately, tongues sliding together. Beneath their dinner is the taste that belongs purely to Derek. It never gets old.

Silently, Stiles helps his lover further up the bed and has him turn over onto his front, his ass raised in the air.

"Wait…" he says, caught off-guard when he spots something black beneath Derek's lace panties. "Are you…?"

"Wanted to be ready for you," Derek confides, arching his back.

"I swear I love you more and more every day, babydoll."

"I aim to please."

"And you do. So much."

Licking his lips, Stiles carefully pulls down Derek's panties until they rest just beneath his hairy ass cheeks. Between them, he prods at the base of the plug that's keeping Derek's hole loose and open.

Ready for his dick.

Stiles grips the base and slowly pulls it out, Derek's hole stretching obscenely around the widest part. He doesn't take it out all the way at first, though, but fucks his pretty wife with it, a preview for what's going to come soon. Derek hides his face in his arms, but that doesn't muffle his moans. Each one is like music to Stiles' ears.

Eventually, Stiles tires of this and tosses the butt plug aside, uncaring of where on the floor it lands; he'll find and clean it later. "You really are wet for me, aren't you?" he observes, spreading Derek's cheeks further apart so he can get a better look at his hole. The light overhead and an abundance of lube causes it to glisten, and a quick sniff has Stiles realising that the lube Derek used isn't the stuff they typically use. It smells sugary sweet.

Curious, he gets some on his finger and licks it off. Strawberries. Seems Derek planned this down to the smallest detail.

"You wanted me to eat you out, didn't you?" he guesses.

Derek whimpers. "Y-yeah…"

Stiles brings his face closer. Up this close—and thanks to the plug leaving him gaping—he can actually see the older man's pretty pink insides.

"Your pussy's just dripping wet for me," he says with an air of reverence. "I love making my best girl feel good and tasting you here, so I'm gonna give you exactly what you want."

Derek moans again, louder than before. His hole clenches on nothing as soon as the word 'pussy' leaves Stiles' lips, and again for 'best girl'. It opens right up again both times, like a rose blooming.

Unable to hold off any longer, Stiles descends. He shoves his face between Derek's hairy cheeks and eats him out with gusto, wiggling his tongue past the loose ring of muscle. He gets the taste of strawberries and the slight salt of Derek's skin. When he seals his lips around his lover's hole and sucks, he almost has to stop to laugh because the sound he elicits from Derek is about the sweetest, whiniest one he's ever got him to make. He does it few more times, just to hear it again. It's one of the best noises he's ever heard.

"Stiles…please!" Derek pleads, pushing his ass back onto Stiles' face.

"What is it, babydoll?" Stiles speaks the words right up against Derek's hole. "My mouth not enough?"

Derek's thighs quiver with arousal. "No…need more."

Wiping the lube from the lower half of his face, Stiles uses it to slick up his cock. He drapes himself over Derek's back and whispers right into his ear: "Yeah? You need me to fuck you now? Slide my big cock into your needy little pussy until you're screaming and squirting all over me? That what you want?"

Derek chokes back a sob and nods ardently.

"Alright, then. Turn back over, babydoll. Wanna see your face as I make love to you."

A few seconds later, Stiles has Derek spread out underneath him, the panties off and Derek's legs like iron around his waist as he tries to pull him in. Stiles kisses him softly to calm him down a bit, threading their fingers together and holding Derek's hands to the mattress. If his husband really wanted to, he could easily break out of the hold, but he doesn't even attempt to. He just lies there, his hands trapped as he licks into Stiles' mouth.

" _Please_ ," Derek entreaties, their foreheads resting together.

"Shh, sweetheart, I've got you."

Positioned as they are, Stiles is at the perfect angle to give a few searching thrusts and have the head of his cock catch on Derek's hole. It occurs a few times, and each time he fails to actually slide inside, Derek's frustration builds until, finally, it catches enough that, with a bit of extra pressure applied, Derek's hole stretches wide enough to let Stiles in.

"You're so hot and wet inside," Stiles says, still holding Derek in place.

Derek's eyelids flutter as he's filled up with all eight thick inches, his hole welcoming Stiles like he was made to take it.

In Stiles' sappy, possessive head, he was.

The first few thrusts are syrupy and lazy as Stiles ensures Derek has enough time to get used to him. He initiates another series of kisses, each one progressively more passionate, and speaks sweet nothings in Derek's ear between them. He gradually picks up the pace until Derek cries out into his mouth and tears his lips away to throw his head back, nearly breaking Stiles' nose with his chin. Stiles pushes himself up until his arms are fully extended, their hands still joined, and watches as his lover falls apart beneath him.

They've made love more than enough times for Stiles to know exactly what he's doing, to know exactly how to angle his hips to hit that special bundle of nerves inside. He's so good at it—not to sound cocky—that it takes him almost no time at all to see the signs that Derek is approaching his orgasm. He suspects another reason it's so quick is because of all the build-up, the time Derek spent waiting for him to get home and the time they spent eating dinner together serving as a form of foreplay.

"Getting close, babydoll?" Stiles asks smugly, his balls slapping against the top of Derek's ass cheeks.

"Uh— Uh-huh!" Derek gasps, staring up at him with hooded eyes. His face is flushed, and as it goes on, the flush spreads down over his neck to his chest.

Unlacing the fingers of one hand from Derek's, Stiles pulls it down until Derek is touching his own cock.

"C'mon, sweetheart, play with that little clit of yours and come for me," he commands.

Derek obeys immediately, shutting his eyes tight and every muscle going tense as he strokes himself off. To tip him over the edge, Stiles gives a series of particularly vicious thrusts, and right as he calls Derek his pretty wife again, his orgasm overcomes him and he goes off like a rocket, thick come spurting from the tip of his cock. His seed splatters across his own torso, matting into his chest hair and soaking into the lace of his bra. The lace strains as he heaves in deep breaths, and Stiles thinks he actually hears something tear before it's over and Derek goes boneless beneath him.

Stiles is right there with him, the tightening of Derek's hole around him enough to have his own release rapidly approaching. With a few more thrusts, it's over. He stays buried deep, grinding his hips against Derek's ass, and then collapses atop him as he fills him up with his come.

 _Hey, there's an idea,_ Stiles muses tiredly as he comes back to himself. _Filling Derek with my come…knocking him up, maybe?_

He'll have to talk to Derek about that naughty piece of roleplay later.

Once he can move again, Stiles pulls his softening cock out of his husband with a wince and flops over onto his back next to him. "So, beautiful…" he says, turning his head to look at Derek. He makes for quite a dashing sight lying there in torn lingerie and his own come. "Was it a success?"

Derek peers back at him with a dopy smile, blinking slow and bleary. "Definitely."

Stiles chuckles and sits up. "Good." His stomach gives a timely growl. "Guess we worked up an appetite again."

Derek struggles to sit up too. A lone glob of come sticks to his beard. "Hungry?"

Leaning sideways, Stiles licks the other man's chin clean and feeds it to him. "Definitely," he says against Derek's lips.

With a groan, said man reaches behind himself to unhook the bra. "I don't think I can go again yet."

"I'm not talking about that."

Derek uses the lacy bra to rid his torso of as much of his own release as he can and then tosses it into the corner of the room to deal with later. The stockings follow. "Then what _are_ you talking about?"

Stiles grins. "Think that pie's cool enough to eat yet?"

Derek rolls his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a roll when it comes to writing porn at the moment, aren't I? Guess that's just where my mind's at right now. I'm not complaining. XD
> 
> I've written feminisation before, but never to this degree. I have to say, I very much enjoyed it—and that this was the first time I've had Derek be on the receiving end of it made it all the better for me. Even though I'm not bisexual myself (I'm a gay man, in case you didn't know), Stiles was pretty much a self-insert here. Seriously, I can't enough of imagining Derek wearing pretty, lacy things while still having some muscle and body hair on him. The best of both worlds. Hannah Montana would be proud. XD Let me know what you thought, and if you'd like to read more of Derek in lingerie. You'd be doing me a favour, honestly.
> 
> Stay tuned for my next PWP, in which Derek is a Mafia boss and Stiles is turned on by his ruthlessness.
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future updates go live. And please check out my past fics if you haven't already and are interested.**


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